


Bad Wine and Grub Leg Cake by The Karkat Vantas Argument

by kcannibalp



Category: Homestuck, Homestuck 2
Genre: Bad Wine And Lemon Cake by The Jane Austen Argument, Depression, Earth C, F/M, Gen, Lyricstuck, M/M, Multi, Sadstuck, Songfic, Suicide mention, everythings the same except karkat went godtier, godtier karkat, lyricfic, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcannibalp/pseuds/kcannibalp
Summary: lyric fic //karkat is fine with his life.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Jade Harley, Jade Harley/Karkat Vantas, Karkat Vantas/Dave Strider
Kudos: 8





	Bad Wine and Grub Leg Cake by The Karkat Vantas Argument

You have a comfortable hive, close to town but not to the city; far from home, but with your friends and family.

You live alone, with two of your friends. They’re your family. 

The area is nice, no water views but you never liked the ocean much — you’d learned to equate large bodies of water with royalty, which meant death. 

Being a god of this world didn’t hinder your ability to live humble though, you spend your days inside, in the shade with your close friend.

This is how your little life has been.

You‘re okay with it. 

Oh, and you’re filling your hive with things, like your friends plants and clothes from when she stays for months at a time; and all the special things you like to eat, like alchemically made grubs native to Alternia.   


It gives you a heavy feeling of loss, nestled deep in the chambers of your bloodpusher. You eat them all the same.

Other things in your hive being pictures of people that you’d like to meet, but are all either dead or currently unexisting in the far void of a universe you left. 

You will never get to meet them, and you’re somehow at peace with that fact. 

You’re at peace with a lot of things. You are so fucking lonely. 

Despite your rampant comfort in crying over romantic comedies every weekend night, you haven’t graced yourself with many love affairs. 

If you had to put your impeding romantic loneliness into words, you’d say that they were all scheduled around the TV guide; Bridget Jones can do the loving for you.

And your sex life has all been plagiarised in some lacklustre attempt to meet a harsh deadline that no longer matters, seeing as imperial drones are no longer a threat on your life.

It doesn’t stop you from jerking up in a teary-eyed cold sweat whenever you wake up hot under the covers. PTSD is a cruel mistress. 

But, if you’re being honest with yourself, you might like to rent a husband.. and maybe rent a wife to keep him happy when you couldn’t.

Which is guaranteed.

The three of you, you could be so happy. Them with each other, and you with company.

You mean, they grew up together. Of course they’d be happy with each other, you’re lucky you get to stick around at all.

You could see them off on a flight around the world, or when you leave for the opposing side of a raging war. 

You life sounds pretty in comparison, but it’s so, so lonely. It is so fucking lonely you want to die. 

You want to die. 

You might just die. 

And at your funeral, they will say "Kark, he was such a nice guy. He went too early, but he went in style."

They'll play Dave’s music and then they will cry.

They'll have a little wake, nothing public.

They'll drink bad wine and they'll eat grub leg cake; and Kanaya’s heart will surely break.

She'll probably say something like, 

“Wait! There must be some mistake! He can't be dead — take me instead!"

Oh, but I'm not dead.

They tell me I'm not dead.

They say that I'm not dead.

And that I won't die for some time...

The reward for killing yourself, huh? Cool pyjama’s, too.

I'm still in my comfy hive, writing little memos to pass the time — which, incidentally, is precisely nine.

So don't you worry, I'm completely fine.

I'm fine.

Don't you worry, I'm completely fine,

I'm fine.

Don't you worry, I'm completely fine,

I'm fine.

Don't you worry, I'm completely fine,

I'm fine.

I am just so fucking fine.

**Author's Note:**

> song that the fic is based on: Bad Wine And Lemon Cake by The Jane Austen Argument.  
> I have been listening to this song on loop for hours, and the lyrics remind me of Earth C Karkat. This was nice to write.  
> I recommend going to listen to the song, it is beautiful.


End file.
